


Of Floral Inequity

by twatsworthy



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M, also sex, pretentious floral metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 09:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1260619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twatsworthy/pseuds/twatsworthy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is a sad sight to see a man without a flower to fall in love with; such was the dogma of Grantaire.</p><p>aka pretentious flower metaphors + slight e/R sex sorry</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Floral Inequity

**Author's Note:**

> idfk this literally took 20 minutes so it's probably bad

There is something to be said for the beauty of naturalism; perhaps for the divine equilibrium of the heavenly and the earthly that it presents in almost-perfect tandem, perhaps for the way it embodies the mechanized and indiscernible innocence which each of us yearns to revisit, or perhaps even for its inexplicability when faced with even the most sagacious of philosophers. The mystery of the natural world is one factor among many which makes it so dazzling to its observers, and even the most sardonic of tortured souls must, from time to time, appreciate the impeccable pearl of the daisy, or the resplendent vibrancy of the daffodil. It is a natural inclination that all with the audacity to lay a claim upon the Earth must share; it is not a choice so much as it is a duty.

And so, in accordance with the blood that flowed within him and the bone and marrow clinging to his skin of misanthropy, Grantaire had come to cherish the flowers that blossomed from the mouth of the passionately eloquent Enjolras in ways that he had never cherished the flowers that grew at the bottom of his garden. He cared little for violets and even less for irises when they found themselves root and routine in the muddied soil of the Earth, yet understood the desire of the poets to compose odes to their serendipity upon seeing them grow, and flower, and vanquish, from the lips of the seraph.

He loved and venerated above all other the floral phantasmagoria brought about amongst virgin bedsheets, in the heated sweat of tolling passion and desire and lucid moaning of broken poetry, words upon words upon words until no word carried heavier meaning than the single, simple word that broke from the monumental mouth; his name; and then came storm and rage and a cascade of flowerbeds a thousand times more beautiful than a flower could ever pretend to be in the physical.

He loved too the softness of the lilies and the daisies brought about when Enjolras crooned his name in the lyrical, eloquent voice that Grantaire had come to love all the better when displaced from its rebuking passion; he loved the tulips and pansies when Enjolras talked feverishly of his day, of his evening, of the life spilt from the bottle in quick succession and falling away from his fingertips faster than Grantaire could lean in to catch it and kiss it better; he loved so well the flowers that took root about him as though he were as chaste and as mild as a woodland creature, even when he did not speak, did not extoll; his presence alone brought about wonders that pitiful, plaintive Earth could only dream of.

It is a sad sight to see a man without a flower to fall in love with; such was the dogma of Grantaire, who noticed nothing when daisies fell underfoot or a bouquet went unwatered, for each night he found himself consolidation in the floral words of the flesh, the illustrious beauty of the marble man named Enjolras.


End file.
